


Where's Campbell When You Need Him?

by Medie



Series: Nora-verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nevermind the damn cops, where the fuck is Bruce when you need him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where's Campbell When You Need Him?

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_halloween/profile)[**spn_halloween**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_halloween/) prompt no. 69. Thanks to[](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/profile)[**havocthecat**](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/) for the impromptu beta.

_11:55 p.m. October 31st_

"Professional demon hunter, my ass."

Dean scowls, tugs at the ropes binding his wrists. Who knew cheerleaders could tie knots so tight? "I said I'd get us out of this, all right? Just shut up and let me think."

She snorts in derision as a cheerleader wails skyward to the moon, brandishing a wicked looking knife. "We? We are so fucked."

"Not yet, sweetheart, but you let me think here and I'll see what I can do about that."

He smirks when she rolls her eyes in response, he can hear it in her voice, "Asshole."

"You know it, baby."

"Just hurry the fuck up or I swear, the first person I chow down on is you, peaches."

_1:32 pm, October 29th_

Dean's never had much use for Goths. Some are all right but he's seen one too many stupid-ass kids who wouldn't know a real demon if one sucked 'em into hell and introduced them to Lucifer himself. Precisely why, in the beginning the rumors about Nora Scott, Hardwick High's answer to the Craft he pretty much dismisses. Nora's a tiny little thing, about a hundred pounds soaking wet with a ball and chain on her ankle. Chick's about as threatening as Minnie Mouse with a bad dye job.

But with Dad chasing down a pack of werewolves two towns over and Sammy nose deep in "War and Peace" (and seriously, who the fuck actually _reads_ that thing?), Dean's bored out of his damn mind and looking for some action.

It's how he decides to check the Nora thing out. Plus, she *is* kinda cute if you overlook the penchant for black. Which Dean totally can, he's got eyes after all.

Shut up.

_2:14 p.m., October 30th_

So, Nora has this book on necromancy in her bag. Not really that big a deal, Dean wouldn't really care as its supposed to be a Goth thing after all but...She's got this notebook too. A notebook with some pretty scary shit scribbled inside, aside from having a pretty decent rack underneath her oversized black sweater, Nora's got Sammy-sized brains going on underneath the equally black hair.

This is officially not good.

He finds the notebook in study hall when she heads to the can. The red spiral bound book's got everything your average 21st century Goth girl needs to summon up the dead; right down to how to get yourself some dead. She's even picked a few targets in the form of the local cheerleading squad, he finds the notes on them right after the notes on sacrifice.

Shit. Just his luck, he finds the perfect girl (oh come on, necromancy, handles a gun - that's in there too - and she can tell a cheerleader's cupsize at a glance? How is that not perfect?) and she's planning on turning a bunch of bottle-blondes into zombies.

Across the room, Darci - head of the bottle-blondes - winks at him, blows a rather impressive bubble with her gum then puts her foot on Mike Anderson's crotch.

On the other hand, maybe a little zombiefying wouldn't be a bad thing? With these girls, there's serious room for improvement.

Serious room.

_12:09 p.m., October 31st_

Sam must never ever know. Seriously, _never_. Dean doesn't know the last time any girl turned him down (because, yes, he's Dean Winchester, this is not done.) So, he thinks it's pretty reasonable that he must be having a psychotic break when he does his thing and Nora's response is to shrug. "Tomorrow? Sorry, Dean, I can't."

He stammers out a laugh as she shoulders her bag (embroided with a wicked cool-looking pentagram) and starts down the hallway. Getting turned down is bad enough, getting turned down by the queen of all loners when half the cheerleaders are chasing his ass? God, that's a very special brand of pathetic right there.

Sam must never ever know. Cause, really. The apocalypse? Blood up to the bridles, the whole deal, and Sam? Sammy boy will _still_ be harping on that one.

"Oh come on..." he wheedles - no, cajoles. Definitely cajoles. Dean Winchester never ever wheedles, whines, begs, or pleads. These things just do not happen. Really. Promise. "It's Halloween, Nora..."

She flicks a look over her shoulder, complete with apologetic smile. Oh god, no, she does _not_ feel sorry for him. Evil, zombie-makin, Goth chicks are not allowed to feel sorry for him, goddamnit. "Yeah, and I've got to watch the shop for my Dad."

He kinda wanted to shoot her right then and there, except, well...she kinda did end up saving his life. So, probably better this way.

_10:30 p.m., October 31st_

So, you want to save a bunch of cheerleaders from life as an undead flesh eating monster and plan A: distract and neutralize the enemy fails. What do you do?

If you're Dean Winchester, with a knack for improv and a really great ass, you show up at the cheerleaders' Halloween-night rave and talk your way inside. Of course, that's the easy part. The second he steps inside, Darci squeals like a kid seeing Barney (a comparison he will never, ever make again) and throws herself at him.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Or, most days, it wouldn't be. Most days an armful of hot, nearly-naked cheerleader would usually be Dean's idea of Santa telling him he's been a very good boy this year.

But you know how this goes, nothing ever works like that because, right then?

That's the last moment he can remember...

_11:00 p.m., October 31st_

...until he wakes up tied to a pole and he's not alone. Not alone in the sense there's someone other than the chanting cheerleaders, of couse, had to make that one abundantly clear just in case you weren't sure.

Really.

"Don't tell me," Nora grumbles, "this was your idea of a great night out?"

Sonuvabitch. "Don't tell me," Dean shoots back, "this was your idea of a great night in? Thought you were supposed to be the one with the diabolical plan to raise the dead?"

"Me?! I was trying to stop it!" She actually sounds offended.

Just fucking perfect. "The notebook..."

That gets another snort of disbelief. "God, Winchester, you are such a tool, you've never heard of research?"

_11:56 p.m., October 31st_

"So, genius, you think of a way to get us out of this yet?" For a girl about to end up a zombie, Nora's pretty damn calm about it all. Which is to say she's still being a bitch about this. It's starting to wear a little unlike the damn rope.

"I'm working on it," he repeats, wiggling the ropes. Fucking cheerleaders, they're supposed to be good at blowjobs and making little shimmy moves look fucking hot. They are not supposed to have actual skills, cheerleaders with skills outside of sex? That's just wrong man.

"If that's you working on it," he's actually kind of starting to hate her voice just a little, just a little in the sense of making nails on a chalkboard sound like Zepplin, "could you possibly wiggle less and escape more?"

"Could you possibly shut the fuck up and let me work here?"

"Oh, that's working? I am so sorry." Okay, if he gets loose he takes out the cheerleaders and _then_ Gothgirl gets it. Oh she is so getting it. "I'll be quiet then."

"And won't that just be a first," he scowls.

_12:00 a.m. November 1st_

So, turns out that whole stroke of midnight thing? The girls actually thought you had to wait for that.

They are cheerleaders, he just forgot for a minute.

Thirty seconds maybe.

"Oh just hurry up and get on with it," Nora groans as Darci, self-appointed high priestess or some shit like that, waved the knife at the moon again. "Seriously, do you morons know anything?"

"No, not really," Dean's pretty sure they actually don't. Nora's done more research about the whole thing than the girls seem to have. Not that surprising when you think about it.

"You do realize," Nora adds, "if they kill us, turn us into zombies, whatever...this? Will be the most humiliating death in _history_. Cheerleaders, Dean..._Cheerleaders_."

He really didn't need her to point that out to them. Really. He's got a good picture of just how spectacularly humiliating this is going to be. John Winchester's oldest son, a young man of above average looks (meaning hotter'n hell), intelligence, and of course skill, killed by girls who can't remember what night Saturday Night Live airs on.

There's pretty much only one thing that could be worse than that.

Which is precisely why that's when the shotgun goes off.

"Well, look at that..." Nora's laughing and Dean closes his eyes. Prayer's not something he uses a lot but, well, at the moment it's all he's got.

Please God, no...don't let it be...

"Dad's gonna kill you for this." Sammy's grinning at him, he doesn't need to open his eyes to know that. By now, little brother is standing right in front of him, the cheerleaders are running for the hills and oh, _god_ he's never going to live this part down.

Damn cheerleaders, can't even make zombies right.

_9:14 a.m., November 1st_

"You could've told me."

Nora skips first class, Dean's not surprised. He finds her in the library with that notebook, scribbling like mad. She pauses mid-word and looks up. "What? And ruin your fun? Oh come, would I do something that cruel?"

"Yes," he drops onto the chair across from her. "Your Dad's a hunter?"

"Now," Nora nods. "Mom was first, then she..." she shrugs. "Dad doesn't suck. He's all excited that the great John Winchester came to town, they can trade tips and whatever."

He glares, she grins.

It's not the beginning of a beautiful relationship. No fucking way.


End file.
